


Late Night Storms

by summercarntspel



Category: Glee, Glee RPF
Genre: Fluff, Late Night Conversations, M/M, Sharing a Bed, Sweet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-20
Updated: 2014-08-20
Packaged: 2018-02-14 00:36:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,015
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2171301
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/summercarntspel/pseuds/summercarntspel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Darren is incredibly cranky, Chris is trying to be sweet, and storms are kind of their thing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Late Night Storms

Author: summercarntspel  
Warnings: some mild swearing and some major cuddling and RPF so if that's not your bag, my apologies, homie.  
Pairing: Crisscolfer (Darren Criss/Chris Colfer)  
Disclaimer: I do not own these fine young gentlemen and am not making any sort of profit off of this story, so please do not sue me. All I have to my name is a guinea pig and a lazy gecko.

 

~~~~~

 

"Darren.... Darren, hey..."

He was vaguely aware of someone calling his name in the back of his increasingly fuzzy dream, but it certainly wasn't the first time he'd been mauled by screaming fans in a dream.

"Darren, wake up... Darren, seriously, wake up, you're going to miss it..."

There was that voice again, a delicate balance of quiet and anxious tones, the pitch high but masculine, odd but somehow so very familiar...

"Darren Everett Criss, wake your ass up or I will lick your face."

Darren woke with a slurred gasp, eyes fluttering a few times, blinking at the dark, bleary room. Fuck, where was he? What time was it? Why was it so damn dark?

"Hey there, Sleeping Beauty," Chris' smooth voice greeted, and Darren felt those long, gentle fingers raking through his messy curls, and suddenly everything made sense.

Kind of.

"Mmm..." Darren mumbled, squeezing his eyes shut when he saw a flash of light dance across the room and heard a loud noise, something between a rumbling and a crackling outside the window of the bedroom, "Am I high or somethin'?"

And Chris had to laugh, handing Darren his glasses, watching as his silly, sleepy, disoriented little boyfriend slid them onto his nose and blinked at least a dozen times to properly clear his vision.

It was silent for a few moments, the lights danced around the room again, the loud noise was heard, and now Darren was kind of annoyed.

"You woke me up at the crack of _way-too-damn-late_ because of a _STORM?_ " Darren groaned, turning his head and burying it in his pillow, "Are _you_ high?"

"No, you dick, I thought it would be romantic!" Chris whined, rolling his pretty blue eyes and wiggling closer to Darren, his chin resting on Darren's upper chest, pillowed on the thin layer of the fabric that was Darren's off-white wife beater, a staple in his normal sleepwear, "Storms are our thing."

And, yeah, that was true. The first time Chris called Darren in the middle of the night, a huge storm was raging outside and Chris was worried and anxious and didn't want to be totally alone. The first time they kissed as Chris and Darren—as boyfriends—and not as Kurt and Blaine, it was pouring outside, the water coming down in harsh sheets as distant thunder roared.

The first time they made ridiculously romantic, cavity-inducing love on the very bed they were currently sharing, a storm that had been terrorizing the city for hours knocked the power out.

And now, a year and a half into their off-set relationship, six months of sharing one apartment, one piano, too many guitars, a ukulele, a bed, and Chris' grumpy cat, Chris thought it was appropriate to wake Darren, king of naps, out of a sound sleep to catch the tail-end of a storm.

And it definitely wasn't appropriate.

But it was still kind of adorable.

"You're a huge dork," Darren complained, dipping his head enough to brush his lips against Chris', his voice still a bit husky and rough from sleep, "But I love you."

"Do you?" Chris purred, letting Darren tug him closer, sharing another kiss or two or five before he buried his face in Darren's soft undershirt and inhaled deeply, taking in the pleasant, soft smell that was so amazingly Darren it nearly made his heart melt.

They stayed like that for awhile, Chris subtly breathing in Darren's scent and Darren gently rubbing Chris' back and shoulders, caressing his leanly-muscled upper body through the threadbare fabric of an old t shirt that was, incidentally, one of Darren's University of Michigan shirts from his college days.

"I love you," Darren repeated, the words slipping off of his tongue with such ease that it was clear he said the phrase often, "I love you very, very, very much."

And he did say it often, maybe too often, if you asked some silly people, but he meant it every single time he said it and it still made Chris' heart flutter and his stomach do flips that gymnasts would envy.

"I love you, too," Chris responded with identical ease, listening to the thunder die down outside, the flashes of lightning growing dimmer with each passing moment, "I'm sorry I woke you."

"No... I'm glad you did," Darren smiled, slipping his glasses back off and pulling their duvet around their bodies, not needing the warmth but strongly desiring the sense of comfort and contentment that snuggling up always brought, "It was sweet... You're sweet. You're like honey, honey."

"Oh my God, you're awful," Chris chuckled, dropping a little kiss to the patch of skin right above the top of Darren's wife beater, "Go to sleep, _honey_ , before any further delirium occurs, please."

Darren smiled, that sweet, soft smile that was reserved for Chris, the one that Blaine sometimes flashed Kurt on the show when there were some moments of serious character bleeding, and craned his neck once more to drop a careful little kiss to the top of Chris' head.

"Alright, fine... I'll make you breakfast tomorrow to make up for that one, babe."

"Chocolate chip waffles in bed with juice would suffice, but if you want to spring for hot doughnuts from the bakery or funnel cake from IHOP, I probably wouldn't say no," Chris hummed, his eyes closing, his voice growing soft and tired, "Your call, Dare-Bear."

"And you say I get silly when I'm tired," Darren chuckled, his own eyes closing, arms tightening around Chris, "Goodnight, babe. I love you."

"I love you, too."

And, just like that, they fell into a peaceful sleep, lulled by the distant, quiet crackles of thunder outside.


End file.
